


Always

by RaeDMagdon



Series: Rybee [2]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Desk Sex, Emotions, F/F, Feels, Fingering, Hurt/Comfort, Vanilla, melding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 06:01:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10530381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeDMagdon/pseuds/RaeDMagdon
Summary: Peebee doesn't think she can bear to watch Ryder die again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A sequel to my first Rybee fic.
> 
> This Ryder is: Asian (default face #4), androgynous-ish, female, logical/professional (except when Peebee makes her laugh), an engineer, and trans.
> 
> Oh! And follow me on tumblr @raedmgadon for more ME stuff and to see my original works, which also feature femslash pairings.

The Tempest is on its way to Meridian again. Their course has been set. Weapons are being checked and re-checked. The rest of the crew is stomping around from one end of the ship to the other, preparing.

Not Peebee, though. Not yet.

She knows she should be excited. The old her would have been. This is the adventure of a lifetime, a chance to uncover answers no one else has even formulated questions for… but she has never felt more terrified.

People from all corners of Andromeda are gathering: angara from Aya and Havarl, krogan from Eladaan, turians and salarians and asari from the rescued Arks, even outlaws from Kadara. They are flanked on all sides by ancient Remnant ships Ryder has activated through sheer force of will.

Thanks to their swelling numbers, Peebee should feel confident… but she has never felt more alone.

Having your heart beating outside your chest does that, she supposes. She hadn’t known it could up and die before. Not until she’d watched it happen. Twice.

The first time, she’d had bad dreams for weeks afterward.

The second time had brought waking nightmares.

_ Ryder, clutching her head, collapsing to the floor as blood leaks out of her nose… _

Peebee blinks.

Ryder—the real Ryder,  _ her _ Ryder—is standing on the bridge, giving orders to Suvi and Kallo. Her shoulders are squared, her posture stiff and rigid. She looks like a hero. But Peebee has read enough terrible books and watched enough terrible holodramas to know that heroes usually die.

_ Ryder, a crumpled heap on the floor, no sign of movement from her chest… _

Peebee looks away. She can’t keep staring.

What if this time, Ryder doesn’t wake back up? What if this time, without SAM, she can’t be saved? Dying is supposed to be an end, and Peebee isn’t ready for the end. It feels like she and Ryder have only just begun.

_ Ryder, pale and still, eyes open but unseeing… _

“Not fair,” she mutters to herself as she leaves the bridge, heading somewhere—anywhere—else.

“Stupid,” she snarls low between her teeth as she stomps through engineering, looking for a safe haven. That doesn’t work, since Gil is busy calculating something. They’d better be numbers that will keep Ryder alive, as far as Peebee is concerned.

“…like she doesn’t even care that she almost… that she actually...”

Jaal and Cora don’t try to stop her as she stalks past the parked Nomad, heading for the crew quarters. They can sense she needs space. But no. She doesn’t need space. What she  _ needs _ is for Ryder to stay in one piece. What she  _ needs _ is for Ryder not to be a fucking hero for once.

There’s no choice, of course. Ryder will do what Ryder does. And that’s the absolute worst part of being in love, as far as Peebee is concerned, because it means she’s so fucking helpless. At least flying solo, she was only responsible for herself. Now, she’s got someone—and that someone can be ripped away in a split second.

She won’t just be alone again. She’ll be lost. Adrift. For the first time, the thought of floating makes her feel helpless instead of free. She wants a tether—at least, one particular tether.

The wonderful part about life is that it’s crazy and unpredictable. There are no guarantees. Things are never boring.

The awful part about life is that it’s crazy and unpredictable. There is no guarantee Ryder will live. This once, Peebee would trade all the adventure in the world for just a little bit of boredom.

_ Ryder, gazing into her eyes, gazing at her and  _ seeing _ her instead of the field of purple-blue stars and clouds and nebulas swirling around them. Ryder, saying: “I love you.” _

No one else sees her like Ryder does. They see some crazy asari who talks to machines like they’re people and dresses them in abandoned sweaters. A nutcase with commitment issues who sleeps in an escape pod, just in case her crazy, abusive ex-girlfriend drops by to ruin everything. A thrill seeker with a death wish who launches people into volcanoes without asking first (although would that have made it any better)?

Ryder sees someone else. Someone better.

Ryder laughs at her dumb jokes, even when they don’t land. Ryder takes her hands when she’s scared and says, “I’ve got you.” Ryder doesn’t tune her out when she talks about Rem-tech like everyone else, but loves her enthusiasm. As a technician herself, she can keep up. Peebee can see it in her eyes.

_ Ryder, sucking in a choked, painful-sounding breath as she tries and fails to use her lungs… _

Peebee winces.

In a few hours, Ryder could be dead.

Peebee can’t let that happen. She  _ won’t _ let that happen.

She sits on one of the bunk beds—not hers, of course. Someone else’s. The sheets smell like stale sweat, or maybe that’s her own fear in her nose. It wouldn’t surprise her.

There’s a green plushie, some kind of plant, sitting by the pillow. She picks it up in a glowing blue bubble and throws it against the far wall. It bounces off harmlessly, falling to the ground.

“Shit.”

Peebee knows what she has to do. She just isn’t sure she can bear to do it. She has to be Ryder’s support system, just as Ryder has so often been hers during the past few months. Shit luck she’s had no practice at being someone’s partner ‘til now.

“How do you do it?” she asks Ryder, or maybe the universe, as she rolls off the bed and returns the way she came, back through the ship toward the bridge.

Ryder has to be under even more pressure than she is. Ryder is the one who’s died twice so far. Ryder is the one missing a brother. Ryder is the one the Archon wants to kill.

“How do you always stay so strong for everyone else? How are you so damn selfless?”

Peebee is selfish. She wants to steal Ryder away in an escape pod and go somewhere nothing can hurt them. But that isn’t happening. Ryder might belong to her now, but Ryder doesn’t  _ just _ belong to her. A little bit of Ryder belongs to everyone in Andromeda, and it’s very likely her girlfriend is going to end up in as many pieces.

She arrives back where she started a couple of minutes later: at the bridge. Ryder has finished her conversation with Suvi and Kallo. She turns, smiling, and Peebee’s heart gives a painful lurch. It’s tethered to Ryder’s now, a thread she just can’t break. And damn it, she’s tried. She’s tried so many times, but it’s just gotten stronger and stronger. It’s the reason she’s still here. It’s the reason she was never able to cut and run, even though her feelings for Ryder terrified her. They still do, especially right now.

Ryder must sense something is wrong, because she heads over with a look on her face, one Peebee has learned to recognize as concern. It should be obvious—maybe it is to other people—but she isn’t used to seeing  _ that _ look directed at her. She’s been on her own for so long, part of her has forgotten what it’s like.

“Ryder…”

“Hey, Peanut Butter.”

Ryder’s voice isn’t professional. It’s unbearably tender, and Peebee feels an itch on her skin, the kind that makes her want to crawl out of it.

“Nice speech earlier,” she says, going with her usual standby. When in doubt, awkward rambling is better than heavy silence. “You’ve inspired the entire crew. They’re running around like monkeys getting ready for the big showdown.”

The furrow of concern in Ryder’s brow doesn’t disappear. “But not you, apparently.” Ryder reaches out with one hand…

_ Ryder, doubled over and shaking, her muscles spasming with pain as she slams her open palm against a glowing remnant console… _

Peebee doesn’t take the offered hand. She turns away, unable look at Ryder’s face. Sometimes it’s easier to say what you need to say when you aren’t looking the other person in the eye. That’s why she likes recordings. You can get personal without actually being personal.

“You inspire me, Ryder,” she says, swallowing back tears. Hopefully her voice won’t break. “In ways that are surprising even to me. I’ve got Rem-tech repurposed all over the place, and Poc’s souped up and raring to go. We’ll keep you in one piece.”

She has to. There is no alternative. The truth is, watching Ryder die again will break her.

“I don’t like seeing you suffer,” she says, staring out past the bridge and into the abyss. The stars, at least, are calm. If they can see an end coming, they aren’t afraid of it, not the way she is. “Without SAM, it looks like interfacing with the Remnant hurts. A lot.”

‘Hurts’ is an understatement. She had seen the agony on Ryder’s face, the way it had contorted…

_ Ryder, eyes scrunched shut, teeth gritted as she trembles… slipping… falling… still. _

In reality, Ryder steps toward her, extending her hands. Peebee turns at last, and this time, she takes them. She takes them and squeezes as tight as she can, finding faint comfort in the way Ryder squeezes right back.

“It would hurt a lot more without you.”

Peebee laughs once, awkwardly. “I’ll let the schmaltz go because I want a kiss after all this.”

“Just a kiss?”

It’s one of Ryder’s rare jokes, a precious gem. Peebee smiles through her pain. She wants so much more than a kiss.

“I like that I make you greedy.” She leans in, and then they’re kissing without discussing it, a hot meeting of mouths that starts out soft but grows increasingly desperate.

Ryder tastes familiar. Tastes like home. Peebee presses her tongue forward, past Ryder’s smooth lips, exploring more of her mouth with a sense of urgency and desperation. What if this is the last time? What if…

No. This won’t be the last time. She has to believe that, or she’ll unravel completely. And she needs to give Ryder something to believe in, too. If they’re going to face death, they should do it together, prepared to defend each other. She’s much too stubborn to let love—the greatest discovery she’s ever made, even if others have made it before her—go without a fight. She’ll cling to it with every bit of strength in her body.

Peebee drags Ryder off the bridge by the front of her jacket, backing toward the escape pods without thinking. A kiss isn’t enough. She needs connection, reassurance, promises. She needs the meld—a gift she’s never trusted anyone else with before. But Ryder has changed a lot of things. Peebee can’t go back. She can only leap forward and pray to a higher power she doesn’t believe in.

Maybe love is that higher power. It’s continued to surprise her so far.

“Peebee,” Ryder gasps as they stumble through the door. “What are you doing?” Her eyes are glazed, confused, but not unwilling. She’s worried, Peebee can tell.

Peebee doesn’t go in for another deep kiss. She bites her lip instead.

“I’m… giving you something to fight for.”

Ryder gives her a soft smile. “I already have everything to fight for.”

“Something good,” Peebee protests. She needs to make Ryder understand. “Not someone you have to save. Someone you….  _ have _ , you know? Me. You have me.”

The soft brush of Ryder’s fingertips against her cheek is enough to break Peebee’s heart. “You have me too.”

_ But how long will I have you? _

It’s a haunting question. It leaves Peebee so hollow inside that she has to fill the void with… with something. She throws her arms around Ryder’s neck, pouring her energy into more kisses instead of the sobs that want to come out. She’s never been the kind of person to buckle before fear. She’ll face it head on—for this. For love.

Peebee doesn’t realize they’ve stumbled over to her desk until her ass hits the edge. She clears it on impulse, sweeping bits and pieces onto the floor with a flailing arm, not caring where they fall. When Ryder’s hands grasp her hips, she jumps up, taking a seated position on the edge of the workbench and spreading her thighs. Ryder steps between them, and Peebee hooks both knees around Ryder’s waist to keep her there.

“Don’t you dare leave me now that I’ve got you,” she pleads, not even trying to hide her desperation. “Ryder, don’t you dare…”

“I’m not leaving,” Ryder says. The way her eyes burn, she looks like she’s swearing an oath. “I promise.”

It’s enough. It has to be enough.

Peebee peels off Ryder’s jacket and shirt as quickly as she can. When buckles won’t unbuckle and straps get in the way, she tears. Biotics help. She wants Ryder’s naked skin. Anything in the way is just another obstacle.

She doesn’t calm down, not even for a moment, until Ryder’s firm breasts are in her hands and Ryder’s hot mouth is sucking her throat. Ryder’s breasts are beautiful, but it’s the heartbeat underneath that soothes Peebee’s fear. She can feel it, strong and steady. But it still seems temporary to her, like a candleflame flickering in the wind. She doesn’t know how they can possibly have the Lifespan Talk—ever—if the mere thought of losing Ryder leaves her so broken inside.

Ryder’s soft tongue runs along one of Peebee’s neckfolds, making her shiver with something other that sheer terror. “Your jacket, too,” she whispers. “Please.”

Peebee would give Ryder anything in the universe. Removing her jacket is nothing. She squirms out of it as best she can without losing contact with Ryder’s bare torso. It’s hot and smooth, with a few scars along her back, plenty of muscle with just the right amount of soft padding. They’ve had sex several times so far, but Ryder’s body still feels like an undiscovered landscape to her. Even if she finally manages to memorize its planes, some part of Peebee knows they will still fascinate her.

Once both of their jackets, shirts, and compressors have been stripped away, Peebee and Ryder cling to each other. They embrace, breathing hard against each other’s cheeks, sharing warmth through flesh. Ryder’s face is burrowed into her neck, and Peebee is trying not to cry into Ryder’s hair. This contact, intimate as it feels, is only a temporary bandage. It won’t stop the bleeding.

“We don’t have time,” Peebee mumbles even as her hands slide down to Ryder’s hips, circling to the front to find the button of her pants.

Ryder grasps her chin, softly but firmly. She kisses Peebee again, closed-mouthed—a pledge or a reassurance, Peebee can’t quite tell. “We’ll make time for this.”

Peebee loses the battle not to weep. Ryder is putting her first. Ryder  _ always _ puts other people first, and what makes her ashamed is that she needs this. Ryder is the one who has ‘died’ twice and might die again, and she is the broken one. It makes no sense, and she fears that she needs Ryder far more than Ryder needs her. It’s second on her list, right after watching Ryder die.

She can’t stop herself. She pulls Ryder’s pants down anyway.

Ryder continues covering Peebee’s face with kisses—to her lips, her cheeks, her chin, her forehead. Peebee knows Ryder can probably taste her tears, but there’s no stopping them. She lets them flow, catching Ryder’s mouth whenever she can manage.

“Peebee…” Ryder’s hands slide up and down her sides, stroking her ribs, finding the soft places. “Peebee, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

Peebee wants to believe that with all her heart. She cries out as Ryder cups her breasts, arching to push them further into Ryder’s hands. The peaks are already stiff, scraping against Ryder’s callused palms. “What if it isn’t. What if you… I can’t watch you… again…”

“You’ll protect me,” Ryder mumbles against the corner of her mouth. “You said so. I believe you.”

The fact that Ryder believes in her shouldn’t be a surprise, but it’s still a staggering revelation. Even though she’s shown it at every opportunity, Peebee hasn’t truly believed Ryder felt that way until now. Even without the meld, she can sense it. She can feel Ryder’s faith in her, and it gives her a little more courage; enough courage to give in to the tingling that has started at the back of her head.

Ryder must sense her reaching out, because she says, “Soon. Just one more second.” She steps back, and Peebee whimpers at the loss, until she realizes Ryder is just stepping out of her boots so she can kick away the pants tangled around her ankles.

Peebee squirms out of hers too, cursing the tight leather. At the very least, she isn’t wearing underwear—which is good, because she wants Ryder to have full access between her legs. No more barriers.

Once they each finish stripping, they stare at each other for a split second. Peebee has never felt more naked. More vulnerable. More raw. And yet, looking at Ryder, she feels… not quite safe, exactly, but hopeful. She has faith in Ryder, and Ryder has faith in her, so maybe, just maybe…

Maybe things will work out okay.

Ryder steps back between the cradle of her thighs, and Peebee wraps both arms and both legs around her—but not before Ryder slides a hand between their bodies. They kiss, and as Ryder’s fingers slide along her lower belly, delving toward the burning heat between her legs, Peebee forgets how to breathe. She’ll give all her breaths for Ryder to have just one more.

When Ryder’s fingers find her, she begins to cry into Ryder’s hair. The soft strands have always fascinated her, but feeling them move against her cheek is comforting. It’s like little whispers. She gasps, a few silky strands sticking to her lips as Ryder’s fingers begin to stretch her open. It burns in the best way. It doesn’t hurt, not even close, but the slight sting is a welcome reminder that they’re both alive. Ryder is inside her, not inside her soul, but at least inside her body.

She wants to be inside Ryder too. It requires loosening her grip slightly, but she unwinds her arms from around Ryder’s lean torso and reaches lower, seeking out her lover’s heat. Ryder’s wetness spills over her fingers at the first touch. She’s so wet, so open, so ready, and Peebee has no trouble at all thrusting inside. She knows Ryder likes that—something to do with not always having this body—but she doesn’t care why right now.

Ryder stiffens against her as soon as her fingers slide home. Her own fingers curl sharply, and Peebee makes a strangled noise that isn’t quite a moan. Ryder always knows how to find  _ that _ spot. She begins thrusting, and Peebee tries to copy her, but the sensations are so overwhelming that she struggles to keep up even a basic rhythm. She knows her movements are sloppy and uneven, but it’s all she can manage. Her feelings are bleeding out around the edges and her head is throbbing with the need to meld and her heart is cracking open all over the place even as Ryder tries to shore the splits up.

In short, she’s a mess. She’s still crying, and she’s pretty sure her nose is running too, somewhere between sobs.

“I’ve got you,” Ryder says, a centimeter away from kissing her. “It’s okay.”

Those are the same words. The same damn words. Peebee wants to believe them  _ so _ badly.

But if Ryder is taking care of her, who will take care of Ryder?

“I will.”

Even though she doesn’t have confidence in herself, Ryder has confidence in her. Maybe that’s enough. It has to be her. Who else?

“What?” Ryder murmurs.

“Nothing. I love you.”

Those words unleash the floodgates. Peebee stops crying and just  _ feels _ as she and Ryder finally find a rhythm to share. They thrust together, lifting each other higher and higher. Peebee rolls her thumb around the stiff bud of Ryder’s clit, and Ryder uses the heel of her hand, giving Peebee a flat surface to push her ridge against.

She’s already close. So close. So close she can almost touch the faint starlight waiting for them beyond this reality and in the one they’ve made for themselves. Peebee wants to live in that world for just a little while.

“Ryder… Embrace Eternity.”

It’s a dumb phrase. Pretentious, Peebee has always thought. But she can’t think of another way to describe what the meld is. It is an eternity, perfectly preserved in a few intimate seconds. It’s a special place outside the universe, outside of time, where the two of them can just be.

When Ryder kisses her, Peebee transports them there, to the place of pale painted stars and swirling blue clouds where two become one. It’s quiet except for Ryder’s heartbeat and Ryder’s breathing, both of which prove she’s still alive.

“You’re hurting,” Ryder says, gazing into her eyes. “Why?”

Of course Ryder can see it. Ryder can probably even feel it. It’s even obvious in the way their own personal galaxy has wrapped around their twined bodies. There are jagged edges to the nebulas, places where the stars shatter, leaving behind empty pits of black. It looks as though a storm is brewing in the distance, billowing as it chases them.

“Because….”

_ Because… because now that I’ve found you, I can’t bear to lose you. You’ve become part of me, and it’s not fair. _

_ It is fair, _ Ryder thinks back to her. Peebee has forgotten they don’t need words to communicate here.  _ And you won’t lose me. I’m going to come out of this alive. _

Peebee wants to believe that. She wants to believe it with all her heart.  _ But how do you know? How can you promise? _

Ryder strokes the top of her crest, trying to soothe her.  _ Because you love me too much to let me go. Right? _

A wave of Ryder’s feelings washes over Peebee, and it’s not at all what she’s expecting. She had anticipated desire, reassurance, maybe concern or even fear. But instead, she is faced with a powerful current of trust. Ryder  _ trusts _ her. She’s heard it spelled out with words, but she’s never felt it flowing to the core of her. Underneath everything else, Ryder isn’t afraid of death, because as logical as she is, she believes in love more. Ryder believes Peebee will save her.

It’s so simple. It’s so honest and true. This must be love, Peebee realizes, because while it’s taken her a long time to admit that she loves Ryder, it’s taken her even longer to admit that Ryder truly loves her back.

The knot in her chest unravels. She feels at peace. Ryder loves her, and that love isn’t a weakness, but a source of incredible strength. It’s  _ everything. _

Peebee takes Ryder’s lips in a fierce kiss, resuming the movement of her hand. She presses into Ryder with everything she has, probing her deepest places, swirling her thumb around the slippery bud of Ryder’s clit. She wants to bring Ryder the same peace she feels. She wants to make Ryder come.

Ryder seems determined to make her come as well. Her forearm tenses between Peebee’s thighs as her thrusts pick up again, and soon, Peebee is whimpering into Ryder’s lips, unable to stifle the sounds. Ryder is touching her in places no one else has ever reached—and not just physically. Ryder gets right to the heart of her.

As Ryder’s muscles move, Peebee can’t help but wonder at them. She’s always known Ryder was strong, inside and out, but she’d never thought about why before. The knowledge that she is now part of that strength, part of what makes Ryder the hero she is, has her near tears again for a completely different reason. She’s near coming, but she doesn’t want to yet. She wants to stay here, buried within Ryder just as Ryder is buried within her. They make each other stronger. Better. She doesn’t want that to fall apart.

_ We won’t, _ Ryder promises.  _ We won’t. _

_ We won’t, _ Peebee agrees. If Ryder believes it, so does she.

_ Then let go. Let’s fly together. _

They don’t just fly. They soar through the stars, grasping each other as shudder after shudder passes through their joined bodies. Peebee clenches tight around Ryder’s fingers, stifling whines by sucking at her full lower lip. Ryder spills molten heat into Peebee’s hand, releasing in sharp bursts that run down her wrist. They carry each other through their peak, stroking in unison, heartbeats aligned.

Peebee is determined to make it last. Ryder is hers, now and forever. She thrusts deep into Ryder until her lover has nothing left to give, and neither does she. Her muscles flutter weakly, twitching with overstimulation, but Peebee doesn’t care. She’ll keep Ryder inside her always if she can.

_ Always. _

Only pure exhaustion forces Peebee to end the meld. When she surfaces from the depths, Ryder is gazing into her eyes, short black hair tousled and teeth showing. Her smile is so loving and genuine that Peebee has to smile back. “You  _ promise _ you won’t die?” she asks, but this time, the question isn’t desperate. It’s more of a reassuring joke, for Ryder’s sake.

“No more dying,” Ryder says. “Lexi made me promise.”

“Fuck Lexi,” Peebee snorts. “No more dying for  _ me. _ Got it?”

“Got it.” Ryder presses another kiss to the middle of Peebee’s forehead, and Peebee giggles, then groans as the fingers inside her give one last gentle curl. It’s almost ticklish.

“Pull those out,” Peebee says, unlocking her ankles from around Ryder’s waist. “I don’t want your trigger finger tired, because you have some Archon ass to kick.”

“What about you?” Ryder asks. “You’re in me too.”

Ryder has a point, but Peebee isn’t ready to pull out yet. Ryder is warm and soft around her. Secure. “Yeah. I know.” She places a kiss to the crook of Ryder’s neck and starts thrusting all over again. They have a few more minutes—and if they don’t, too bad. It’s enough time to give Ryder one more reminder of what she’ll be fighting for.


End file.
